Little Golden Thingy
by ImNotStubborn
Summary: Tag for 708, after Jane and Lisbon's fight. Rated T because of what I plan to write in at least one other chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_I know there's been a lot of tags for this episode, but I have read only one of them (Entwife's). So if anything in here reminds you of another fic, know it's a simple coincidence :)_

_Thanks again to Ethiercn who beta-ed this._

_Enjoy!  
_

**Little golden thingy**

"I know I have to let you do your job, Lisbon, but it would be easier if your job wasn't getting shot at all day!" I say as I let her enter the Airstream before me.

We have managed not to speak a word to each other in that elevator, but the fight has started anew on the drive here. I close the door as she throws her bag on the floor and shouts back at me.

"We were _pretending_, for Christ's sake! It was even your idea, Jane! And what else would I do anyway, huh?" She adds, then raises her hand to stop me from answering right away. "Don't you dare bringing up something as stupid as bee-keeping, Jane, or I swear you'll regret it!"

I stop the smile tugging at my lips when I hear that. I never meant to bring this into the conversation of course; I realize this is a serious fight. It's just that the idea of Teresa Lisbon, tucked in a beekeeping suit and pouting... It's disturbingly cute and sexy at the same time.  
_Ok pal, there's a time for these things, and it's not now. Focus._

Thinking about her job makes me sober up immediately.

"Look, I know you need action in your life, I mean obviously you'll never be a stay at home mom. But law enforcement, at least this form of it, it's too dangerous! I can't... You could die every time you go out there in the field as an FBI Agent, Teresa. And what, just so you can get your adrenaline rush of the day?"

That's mean, and I know it. I know exactly why she does what she does, that she wants to help people, to serve justice; she didn't chose that life because she's a danger junkie. It just escaped my lips. I want to apologize, but the hurt I can read on her features is much stronger than I expected it to be. It stops me temporarely.

Come on, she didn't take it that badly, she knows I respect her vocation...

"Well, I'm glad that's so _obvious_ to you!" she tries to scream, but fails around the lump I can tell is forming in her throat. She breathes in once, trying to cool herself.  
"I already know that I'll never have a family of my own, Jane, but... At least let me have this_._ Let me have my job", she almost whispers, her voice breaking mid-sentence.

My mouth opens and my brain comes to a complete stop, and Lisbon narrows her now teary eyes. She regrets what she has just said but apparently she has no idea how to continue this either. I walk, no, stumble back to the couch like she's slapped me, and fall on it.

I don't even know where to start. This is so wrong, so horrible of her to think.

We've never talked about children. How the hell can she say she won't have a family? That comment I made about staying at home was about her character, and the fact that we both know she couldn't stand not working at all. I didn't mean anything more definitive than that!  
And even without mentioning kids, I consider _her_ my family now, and I have to admit I'm hurt. Why doesn't she think the same of me? We've never discussed marriage either but she has to know that's an option for later. Right? Just because we're a little older than most brides and grooms doesn't mean we can't do it! I know I don't care about public opinion.

I instinctively play with my ring while I think those words, and freeze when I see her stiffen as she drops her gaze to my left hand.  
_You might often be the smartest guy in the room, Paddy, but you sure can be stupid too._

Of course. I've lost my family, my beautiful daughter and my wonderful wife. And then I spent years chasing down the monster who'd killed them, and I strangled him to death. But I've never, ever taken my ring off for Teresa, not even after Red John was in the ground, not even when I came back to her or when we started being _us_. She must think this has something to do with her, and that it means I'm not a hundred per cent into this relationship.

But that's not true. This ring has been my lifeline when I was trying to catch the monster. It was first a token of my infinite love for my family. Then it became a reminder of my quest, of my mission to find the serial killer and make him pay.  
And once he was dead, I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. So I kept it on, it was the only familiar thing I had. I couldn't go to the cemetery anymore since I was a fugitive, hence my ring was the last connection I had with them.

I don't really have any excuse not to have taken it off afterwards, when I was back in the US.  
Actually if I could go back in time and take it off right when I saw Teresa again after those two years of separation, in that FBI conference room, I'd do it without a second thought. Even if we hadn't started dating at that exact moment, she would have understood the gesture and the idea of her going out with Marcus Pike would have simply been bad science-fiction.  
But I honestly didn't think of it at that moment. I was jet lagged and could hardly believe she was there, more beautiful than ever, standing in front of me for real and telling me she'd missed me.

Then there has simply been no occasion. I know it's a stupid thing to say, but when we got together after that plane incident, when we stayed to the Blue Bird Inn for a few more days, making love like randy teenagers every chance we got, trying to convince each other that we weren't crazy or dreaming or both... I was, fortunately, miles away from thinking about Angela or our marriage.

After that, it has occurred to me a few times, especially when we were on a date and someone would disapprovingly look at my hand, thinking I was out with my mistress. I'm sure, however, that Teresa never picked up on those rare glances.

Only now... Now we've been talking about leaving law enforcement, and whatever our opinions on the subject are, it would be a much bigger commitment to each other than ever before. I know I'm ready for it, but until a couple of weeks ago I wasn't sure she was. A couple of weeks ago.. When she said 'I love you' back, for the first time in who knows how long. For Teresa Lisbon, my tough little cookie, doesn't reveal her mushy center and confess her feelings to just anyone.

So maybe it's time to stop screwing things up and show her I really mean for the two of us to fully be together. I stand up abruptly, my decision made, when I catch a glimpse of something in her eyes that bugs me.  
She doesn't recoil; she's still standing in the same place as she was before, her arms now crossed on her chest. But I saw it, and she knows I saw it. Fear. Lisbon is scared.. of me? Of what I might answer to her earlier plea?

And that's when I realize what's been poking at my brain since she spoke those last words. What she said was so shocking that I didn't understand this right away, but the worst part is actually how she said it.  
She wasn't angry anymore. I mean, yes, of course she was. But that tone... That tone was close to the one I've heard her use against me in very specific occasions, when Red John was involved in a case and she wanted me to be cautious with my life. Only this time it's much more pronounced than usual.

Teresa _begged_ me.

What I don't get is why.

Why does she feel like she has to ask for my permission? We're a couple of grown-ups, we should discuss these things and make a decision together. That vague mention of children showed me she has already decided we'll never have kids, and what makes it worse, because she thinks_ I_ don't want to.  
She thinks my horrible past gives me the right to refuse her the chance of ever becoming the amazing mother I know she would – will – be, and that is just astoundingly wrong. Of course, having a second child won't be easy for me, I'll be the most overprotective dad on the planet and I'll probably have a whole new set of nightmares waiting for me when I go to bed at night. It doesn't mean I don't want to consider that possibility or that she should sacrifice her dreams.

Furthermore, I understand that back at the CBI, she had no choice but to beg me. She was a concerned friend worried about my lack of self-preservation, and it was my life and my future we were talking about – two things she couldn't claim as hers yet.

But things are different now and ever since Red John died. I think back to that horrible day when she yelled at me in a plane, to leave her alone and let her lead her life the way she wants to. It had stung like hell at the time, but _that _had been my Lisbon.

This vulnerable and frightened woman in front of me right now, pushing my protective instincts to their maximum, is a facet of her personality I've never seen – or never wanted to see – before.  
She implored me in that throaty, anxious voice, like a criminal's mother asking a judge to withdraw his death penalty, like. . . I freeze even before I'm done thinking of the other comparison.  
_Like a little girl pleading her abusive parent to stop hurting her._

My eyes widen even more at that idea my subconscious just phrased, and I try not to show her the hate I can feel building in me towards myself, for making her feel like she's back to this part of her life when she had to beg her way out of a beating – and I don't even want to consider the possibility that this method might not always have prevented her father from hitting her.  
Though I might not be entirely responsible for this; I've noticed some changes ever since we met her brothers: sure, she's happier and she's more involved in their lives, but she's having a lot more nightmares, too.  
The case involving the Lisbons brought a lot of bad memories back, and that combined with our anger and our very first couple fight, must be what made her regress to her younger self just now.

I know I have to talk now, fix this. Because, all the Freudian crap aside, I cannot let her think this relationship is anything like the one she had with her father. I just can't.

I soften my glance and walk until I'm right in front of her, and I gently put my hands on her waist. I feel her relaxing just as I touch her, and it makes me feel a little better. At least she's not afraid I would ever hurt her physically – not a surprise considering _she_ used to punch _my_ nose. It's not much, but it's something.

Her breathing is slower, calmer than earlier, and I take it as a good sign.

"Teresa", I say as quietly as I can. "Please, don't look at me like that. I'm not going to hurt you." _Anymore_. Neither of us has to say it, but I want to make things right.  
"I know I have in the past, and I'll never be able to repay you for all the times you forgave me. But that's over now, ok? I promise."

She sighs and nods, a tear rolling down her cheek as she puts her hands in my hair and starts stroking it. I can see that she believes me, and that she's sorry for making it look like she doesn't trust me. I kiss her lips to make sure she knows I get it.

I reluctantly let go of her hips and only take her hand to get her to sit on the bed with me, because we're not done and this is going to be hard for both of us. She knows it too, and she smiles her cute, loving smile when I tuck a strand of hair behind her left hear.  
It's my turn to sigh, and I look her right in the eyes when I speak again.

"Ok, I think we should stop talking about what happened today."

Lisbon's legendary 'you're not fooling me' frown appears on her face and she's about to open her mouth to object. I have to admit I do sound a little cowardly, but I don't let her interrupt me.

"I didn't say forever, honey. Just tonight. There are other important things."

She doesn't even answer, she just looks at me sceptically and I can read the almost mocking question in her deep green eyes. _Really, like what? _I raise my left hand and show her my ring.

"We should discuss this, first." I say, and I feel her body tense immediately as she bites her lower lip with apprehension. 

_**To be continued**__, obviously, but I have no idea when._

_Thanks for reading, don't forget to review! ^^_


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't hit me, I hate cliffhangers too. I really didn't realize how cruel that one was until people started telling me, and I guess since I already had a few ideas in my mind about how to write the next chapter, I didn't see it. Sorry about that!_

_I'm also sorry it took me so long to update this. In my defense, I had told you it would..._

_Thanks so much to everyone who followed/ reviewed (I love reviews guys, thank you!)/ favourited the first chapter! I sure hope you won't be disappointed with this one ^^_

xxxxx

**Chapter 2**

"We should discuss this, first."

I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have brought up that stupid family thing, but I didn't do it on purpose.

Now he's going to want to talk about the whole idea, starting with the golden elephant on his finger. He's going to tell me how much I mean to him but that he'll always love Angela and Charlotte – which I understand – and that I'll always be second to them – which I'm trying to understand. I've loved him for a long time, and I know I should insist more on my place in his life. . .  
But how do you do that? How do you tell a widower you want him to cut off his links with his former life? Even if that's not what I mean, it's probably how he'll take it, right? That kind of thing has to come from him. Still, it's been several months now since we're together. . . and nothing has happened.

And he wants to talk about it now, of all times, in the middle of our very first fight.

"Doesn't have anything to do with your ring," I mumble, lying so unconvincingly I think he might laugh.

Scratch that. He actually looks. . . annoyed. He tries to cool it down without really hiding it from me, and his eyes don't leave mine after he's rolled them.

"It does, Teresa. We haven't talked about having a family, ever. Yet you seem to already know things I don't about our future and our relationship. And I'm fairly certain it has a lot to do with me wearing this specific piece of jewelry. . ."

I have no clue what to answer to that. _Damn you, Jane_.  
He understands my discomfort and helps me out.

"Ok, let's start simple then. How much does it bother you?"

"It doesn't!" I say defensively.  
And again, he looks exactly like me when I know he's pulling one over at work. It's not a look I'm used to seeing on him, and I don't have his arrogance to hide behind. I can't ignore the shame I feel right now. I sigh and fold.

"Fine, it does. Of course it does, especially when people see us holding hands and stare. I feel like I'm the otherwoman, and you're the married lover who cares so little about both women in his life, he doesn't even take his wedding ring off when he's out with his mistress."

I see him frown, and the pain in his eyes surprises me. Hadn't he noticed? That's not possible; Jane litteraly spends his life watching everyone's behavior, and of the two of us he's the one more likely to. . . _Oh_. He did notice. He just didn't expect _me_ to.  
I'm insulted but I don't listen to my hurt ego and focus on what I was initially going to say.

"But most of the time, I get it, Jane. I really do. You miss your family, and I understand that it's hard to move on and that even when that's done, you won't want another one. Obviously, it would never be enough;_ I_ would never be. . ."

His face suddenly shows so much shock and rage I can't help but feel a little frightened. His sharp eyes glare at me. I can't talk anymore.

"Teresa, I'm warning you," he says through clenched teeth, "do not finish that sentence."

I almost snap at him. Really, _Patrick Jane_ is threatening me? This is exactly as it's always been: no matter what I say or do, he doesn't care about my point of view. He just wants things to be done his way. But he's not the only one who's unhappy here, and I've had enough! I should be able to express my opinion on our relationship without. . .

The hands I love so much are suddenly toying with my hair, bringing me back to now, and I can see he's almost smiling.

"Please, calm down. I wasn't threatening you. I just never want to hear those words. I'm not angry at you for thinking them; I simply feel. . . ashamed."

He's not smiling anymore, and the soft tone of his voice lets me see how much he means his next words.

"You need to understand this. I don't just like you, or consider you a fun distraction in my grieving existence. I don't think you're a replacement either, or a way for me to reenact what I used to have with Angela, or whatever other horrible and completely wrong scenario you've made up in your mind." He pauses and cups my face in his hands, stroking the pulse point in my neck with his pinkie. "I love you, Teresa. And you're more than enough. To this day, I'm still not sure I deserve you."

He grins and for a moment, everything is fine in the world. Until that beautiful smart-ass seems to be under the impression that opening his mouth again is a good idea. He must be unusually nervous, because it's really more ranting than talking.

"You can't keep beating yourself up for no reason; you've been doing that for way too long. I don't know why though; it's honestly one of the things that frustrate me the most about you. Might have something to do with your childhood, it would certainly explain a lot, but. . ."

_Oh, no you don't_. I was about to calm down, to understand what he meant. But I can't control myself anymore when I hear that. I see red, stand up as fast as I can and swing back at him, shouting louder than I meant to.

"Your turn to shut up, Patrick!"

He's startled by my reaction and my calling him by his first name in such a situation, and he recoils a bit.  
_Well, surprise, Patrick Jane. You don't know me as well as you think._

"We are _not_ going to talk about this, do you hear me? I never bring up things that I know hurt you unless you need or want me to, and right now the last thing I want is for you to casually mention that! It is none of your buisness, Jane!"

He stands up too and reacts much more violently than I thought he would.

"That's exactly the problem here! We both want us to be in a real, serious relationship, but you're not willing to really open up to me!" He comes a little closer and turns the volume of his voice back to normal. "I might have been a secretive bastard in the past, but I've been making progress in that regard. For you. _You,_ on the other hand. . . I am not judging you, Teresa. But it did take you more than three months of the two of us basically living together to tell me you loved me, and I'm pretty sure the very reason you finally said it out loud was because I proved to you I cared about your brothers. You had been protecting yourself from me until then. Which is why I think 'you and I' has as much to do with your past as it has to do with mine."

I stare at him, my face still hot from my outburst, and quietly think about it. And again, I think he's right. He just probably doesn't realize how much he is. . .

When I fell in love with Greg in high school, I was completely head over heels for him and we spent almost all of our time together. We were young and stupid, and when he asked me to marry him, I was just so happy to have met the Prince Charming who could take me away from what was happening at home, that I said yes immediately.  
It all went south one day, as I was shopping for my wedding dress with a friend. I wanted it to look like my mother's; my parent's wedding picture being one of the few I'd managed to save from my father's drunken rage. . . And she looked amazing. When we found a close match and I tried it on, it all changed. One second I was Teresa, the most excited 19 years old bride-to-be, the next I was staring at a perfect replica of Nora Lisbon, same age, on the happiest day of her life.  
It was like someone had punched me in the stomach. All I could think about was how the man she'd married this young had become a monster when she hadn't been around anymore, because he couldn't stand losing her. My father was not a good man, at least not anymore, but children are supposed to learn important things from their parents, no matter who they are. What if this was just a way to repeat past mistakes? Had _I_ learnt nothing from my upbringing?

This moment was the first time – and definitely not the last one – that I ever thought to myself that yes, love might be as great as they all say it is, but it can also be the end of you.  
I thought Greg was the one for me; I was sure we felt for each other what my parents had felt. What if I ever lost him? What if I turned into another version of my dad? The man who, when I'd had my first crush in fourth grade, had made me swear in spite of my mother shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him, that he would always be number one in my little heart; the man who'd ruined it all repeatedly in the last few years? This was my biggest fear, and the main reason for my becoming such a control freak.  
I had left the store as fast as I had been able to. When I'd gotten home to my eternally trashed father, I'd found a letter from the Police Academy telling me I had made it into their program. That had been the beginning of a new life, centered around good, solid things like my work, and not unreliable feelings such as love.

Marcus was the second man I was ever engaged to. Although I'm more ashamed than nostalgic when I think back to both his proposal and my over the phone acceptance of it – and I'd rather not think of his reaction at all. We had a relationship, of course we did: went out on dates, talked about the future, eventually planned to live together and get married... But as great a man as he was, I never loved him.  
I liked him. He was confident when it came to us dating, he was honest, and he told me point blank he wanted to spend his life with me – several times. In other words, he was exactly what I needed Jane to be at the time while _he_ was too busy pretending to be happy for me.  
It wasn't only that, even if it took me longer to acknowledge the other reason I went along with it all. I also knew Marcus would never cause me the sharpest kind of emotional pain, not because he was the best man on the planet, not even because he was predictable; but because since I wasn't really in love with him, there wasn't any way he could ever break my heart like my father had, like Greg could have. Like Jane who first cracked it on small occasions, and then shattered it with the Las Vegas fiasco.

Jane. The man I have loved and still love so much, even when he didn't deserve more than my indifference. I can't remember a day, since I met him, when I haven't been worrying about him, his sanity, our friendship and the fact that I wanted it to be so much more and wasn't supposed to.  
Greg was my first love; Jane is the love of my life. And I would never have felt this way if it hadn't been for a serial killer's horrible actions against his wife and daughter.

I let my eyes wander on his handsome features and his gorgeous curly hair. He's broken, he thinks he's a bad man and that he owes me because I have tried to fix him for as long as I've known him. But I owe him too, and right now he deserves to hear the truth.

"Look, Jane, I've been hurt by. . . I've been hurt before. Sometimes by you." He looks away but I take another step towards him to make him understand I won't have it. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty about our past, ok? I don't keep scores, you know that. But even if I know you're trying to be more honest with me and I understand that it's hard, you still hide things from me, including what happened at the hotel today. And I admit you wearing your ring after all this time and knowing what we've become to each other. . . It hurt a little. But then, you're right, you did everything you could for both Stan and Jimmy, and you helped _me_ through that whole mess, too. You made me brave enough to take a risk, after all these years, and I said it."

I sigh and tears well up in my eyes. He stands awkwardly, not daring to touch me I guess, because he knows I'm not done.

"I didn't know it at the moment, I swear! But afterwards, I realized a part of me was waiting for you to do something about the ring. And today, you went behind my back again, you chose what you thought was safer for me and didn't warn me. You tried to control me again, and I _hate_ that, Jane. And yes, it may be because of my past, but it doesn't mean I want to bring it out and discuss the details with you. I don't. . . I don't want to relive it. I need some time until I'm ready to talk about my family, too."

I want to slap myself for letting that much vulnerability show, as I can't stop the water from running down my face, but he suddenly throws his arms around me and hugs me as tight as he can.

I don't push him away. I'm mad at him; we have issues heavier than I've ever had with any man and I'm not even sure we'll ever be able to resolve them. But I love him more than I can say, he stole my heart and soul long ago and until he said I was wrong about his intentions, I was even ready to give up the family I have always dreamt of. Not because I think I don't deserve it, but because I want him to be happy again, and I don't ever want to be responsible for him being in any kind of pain.

His are the only arms I could never walk away from, no matter what's going on between us. It might also have a bit to do with the strength he puts in the embrace, and the fire his fingertips never fail to send through my veins when we touch.  
I let my hands wander to his back and grab pieces of his shirt, burying my head in his chest and crying silently.  
_I love you so much, you stupid man_.

"I love you too, baby," he whispers low; and I let out a strangled chuckle.

He pulls back so I can see he's cried too, and kisses my forehead. We quietly move back to lay on the bed, on our sides so we can face each other and stay as close as possible.  
A few minutes later, Jane's the first one who feels able to speak again.

"It's ironic, though," he says, amused.

Half asleep as I was, it takes me some time to understand what he said. I move up so my face is right in front of his, and frown.

"You didn't dare to show your true self to me because I was wearing my ring," he explains as his right hand draws meaningless, ticklish patterns on my hip. "And the only reason I was still wearing it, was because I didn't think you were ready for the kind of commitment it would mean when I actually take it off."

The humor is totally gone from his voice now.

"I want to do it, Teresa. I really do. And I know Ang. . . " He takes a deep breath and his sad smile breaks my heart a little while he looks above my shoulder. "She would want me to do it. And. . . Charlotte would want her dad to be happy. I know she would; she was a lot smarter than most kids her age!"

His proud intonation first makes me angry that he never got to see Charlotte grow up. But Jane got his revenge, Red John was punished for what he did and he's trying to heal, as much as he can. All I feel now is sadness, and I just want to make him feel better.

"I'm sure she was," I breath out, caressing his face in the soothing movements I often use when he has one of his nightmares. "I didn't know you back then, Jane, but I'm willing to bet you were the best father a little girl could dream of."

He looks back at me and makes us both sit up, his skin suddenly much paler.  
He mutters a thank you and slowly, his wonderful, honest blue glance never leaving mine, he takes my right hand in his and places my index and thumb on his ring beneath his own.

My heart quickens and I'm almost panting with anxiety. I don't hide it though, because he seems to relax a little as he realizes I'm restless too. He doesn't say a word but takes a slow, long breath in and I imitate him. Then he expires the same way and I follow again as calmly as I can, swallowing my gasp of surprise as I feel the cold metal moving barely an inch against both our skins.

He repeats the action again and again, pulling the wedding band a little closer to the tip of his finger every time. When it's finally there, I hesitantely extend my hand since both his are busy, and he drops the small object in my open palm.  
We both look down at it and stay silent for what feels like hours.

Then he takes it reverently, gets up and puts it in one of the mini-kitchen's drawers before he comes back to me. I must be staring at him a little too oddly because his voice is suddenly shy.

"I'm not leaving it in here forever. I just don't know what to do with it yet."

"Hey, you don't have to justify yourself to me, Jane" I tell him gently. "You'll figure it out eventually." I'm not sure I should, but I throw a last thought out there. "Just like we'll figure how to work things out, too. But no more lying to me, and I mean that. I'll take less risks for now, and we'll think about a long-term solution later. Ok?"

He nods with conviction, then smiles and kisses me, his lips a feather-like touch on mine.

"We really suck at this communicating thing, don't we?" he whispers, beaming.

"That, we do," I answer, a little breathless under his now lustful gaze. "All this mess for nothing."

"Hmm. . . It's crazy how something as little as a ring can cause so much trouble, huh?"

He leans a little more towards me and joins our mouthes before my jacket ends up on the floor. He rolls me on my back so he can lay on top of me, but I still have enough self-control to pull back.

"Hey, Patrick, I never meant it like that," I start to apologize for my poor choice of word. After all, his wedding band is not 'nothing', and neither is his marriage to Angela. I don't want him to think that's what I wanted to say.

"Relax, love, I know," He kisses the tip of my nose. "Besides, I like to get in trouble anyway."

"Right," I laugh. "That whole mess of a relationship is just another fine pickle you got yourself in, then?"

He blinds me with one of his biggest smile, as he obviously remembers that day in the airport interrogation room. He playfully lets his tongue trace my lips and moves back right before I can respond properly.

"Oh, you got that all wrong, sweetheart. Stopping a plane to tell the woman you love how you feel about her is a pickle. Kissing her senseless in an interrogation room even after the TSA officer told you not to, is a pickle. Trying to figure out how to ask her to marry you? Now that's a whole new level of trouble."

My eyes go wide and I push up on my elbows so I can fully look at him. Did I hear that right?

"What? Are.. Jane, are you..?" I stammer out, feeling light-headed.

"Proposing? Of course not, silly." He strokes my cheek with his hand, partly because he wants to, partly because he must know he's going to regret calling me that later.  
"I don't even have a ring. How ridiculous would I be, proposing without a ring?" He snorts a disdainful laugh and I try not to think of Marcus. "I'll probably want your opinion on it, too. This way we'll get to chose it together and, I love Cho, but it will thankfully erase that horrible memory of you two in that store during the jewelry case. Brr."

He half-fakes a shiver, and I blush a little at the thought. Yep, I love Kimball too, but he's like another brother to me. This had been... awkward to say the least.

"I'm just putting the idea out here for both of us to think about," he continues. He suddenly looks afraid. "I hope. . . I hope it's alright?"

I can't help but smile at him, trying to stay calm on the outside while a thousand versions of myself jump and squeal in my head. Patrick Jane is insecure because he wants to marry me?! No, it's not alright; it should make a national freaking holiday of that date!

I know he really needs an answer, but it's not like I can trust my voice right now. Instead I grab his hair and pulls him down to me, and I kiss his lips. Once. Twice. On the third time, I feel his mouth moving against mine and his teeth suddenly grab my lower lip, preventing me from moving away again.

We both groan and Jane lets his passion take over.  
He almost brutally lays me back on the bed, pining my body to it with his own. The kiss deepens, and his skillful hands ridding me of my now uncomfortable blouse make me sigh with pleasure. That kind of a reaction from me, a tell-tale of how ridiculously responsive I am to his ministrations, usually makes him chuckle. Not tonight, though; he's apparently too lost into the moment to take the necessary distance.

And I get why he's being like that. The case and our talk about both his tragic past and what could happen to me in the future in our current occupation give him no choice but to try and reassure himself this way. By kissing and touching me, realizing that I'm really here, alive and well; that I'm going to stay with him and that I'm considering his needs as much as mine in this relationship.

So I relinquish control totally, close my eyes and let him act in that very special mood of his, the one he still rarely shows to me because it makes him vulnerable.  
He kisses, nibbles my face and neck with care and adoration and that strong, almost animal possessiveness that tells me he's not letting me go anywhere for a few hours. His hands are everywhere on my body, speeding up my heart until it's in unison with his. I know he doesn't believe in God or fate, but I could swear his worshipping me physically like that is a sort of a prayer, as if he was asking the universe to keep me safe from the many dangers of this world.

Eyelids still closed and mind now flooded with arousal, it's a miracle that I manage to register his mouth leaving mine for longer than in the previous minutes. I let out a protesting cry, that almost instantly turns into a very loud moan as the wetness of his tongue reaches my nipple.  
_Where the hell did my bra go? _I open heavy lids to get the answer that question, and incredulously notice I have lost every other piece of clothing I was wearing, too. Seems I've been a lot more out of it than I thought. I stop caring when with a fluid, wanton movement of his hips, he makes me realize he's as naked as I am.

xxxxx

_Ok, I know I took the coward way out of the leaving law enforcement issue, because a)I feel like I've drown myself into something already heavily emotional enough again in that fic (I don't seem to control what I write), b)This wasn't titled "little career problems", was it? I wanted to deal with the ring issue mostly and c)frankly I don't see how they can resolve it yet, I did see a post of Pellegrina on tumblr bringing up an idea that I like very much, and I might borrow sometime._

_I didn't write either "the end" or "to be continued", because I just don't know. With the 710 promo (if you haven't seen it and hate spoilers don't watch it!) and what we know of it so far, I'm honestly a bit lost.  
If there ever is a third chapter, it won't be here before a while because I'm starting my second week of finals on Monday._

_Don't forget to review, I really want to know what you thought of this!_


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